Final Fantasy XI: REVELATION OF DARKNESS
by Hicks
Summary: BOOK II: One year has passed. Lieutenant Hicks has dissapeared, and the Republic of Bastok is slowly becoming nothing more than a memory. Silver Tear, in a conquest to find the one who can lead them to victory, leaves to search for his leader... R
1. Chapter I: Discoveries

- BOOK II -

R E V E L A T I O N - O F - D A R K N E S S

- For Emira and Silver -

I

_The enormous airship slammed into the side of the San d'Orian castle, the explosion rupturing the sinister city down to the very core. The sound of wood and metal clashing up against hard stone could be heard for miles, and the metropolis immediately went into a state of catastrophe. Citizens ran for their lives, young and old, screaming and crying as they fled. _

_From the throne room, the Dark Queen meditated. Behind her was a figure new to the lands of San d'Oria, a dark and sinister figure of a tall and thin stature, with no obvious characteristics about him whatsoever. He seemed to be without clothing, having no genitals of either male or female origins, though his body was bathed in what could only be described as a skin tight suit of black. He had no mouth, no nose, no eye sockets; he was blank and without characteristics in any way. "He is here, with the Eye." She muttered, her eyes closed in meditation. "For your first duty, you will retrieve that Eye," She began, opening her eyes to stare at the wall before her. "and you will kill the one known as Silver Tear." Without emotion, he gave a San d'Orian salute, and a violet glyph made itself present on the stone floor in which he stood. As a pair of demonic wings unfolded behind him, which he stretched to their full length of ten feet, he slowly began to sink into the circular object._

_----_

_"Where is she, you bastard!" The thief yelled, his dual scimitars unsheathed and grasped firmly in his hands, which he held before him. The midnight air rushed past both him and the demonic figure high atop the San d'Orian castle rooftop. Silver was wounded severely in many places, his body stained with blood, bruises, and scratches, but he refused to die. He couldn't; everything was on the line. However, he wasn't fighting at the moment for the conclusion of the war. He was fighting for something that was much more personal than any war, and until his objective was complete, he had no choice to stay alive._

_He had no choice._

_----_

_With a kick that ruptured several of the thief's ribs, he was thrown off of the castle rooftop. He let out a small, quiet moan of utter defeat as his body turned itself downward to his impending death, blood rushing from his mouth and side, one eye completely torn from its socket. From the rooftop stood the demonic figure, in his hand the dark pearl that began this horrible fray. _

_Suddenly, in Silver's mind, everything began to slow down. The sounds around him were muted, and he could hear his own heartbeat as it gradually began to slow down. He found himself falling towards the ground, looking upward towards his opponent, while everything around him seemed as if it were in slow motion._

"…_So…"_

"…_This is how it ends…?"_

"…_This is the fate of Vana'diel…?"_

_----_

Hicks awoke from his slumber, finding himself in a bed that was, to say the least, very unfamiliar. He raised himself up, rubbing his sweaty forehead, and sighed. What was that? What in Altana's name did it mean? He found that he had no answers to these questions, although, he hoped for his student's sake that it was nothing more than a dream. From outside the small room, he could hear the playing of instruments. The song was peppy, and in Hicks's opinion, far too joyful for anyone's good. The room was shabby, decorated with furs and ornaments that even a commoner would call 'gaudy'.

"You finally decide to wake up." A feminine voice stated, causing Hicks to nearly break his neck in surprise. Even after a year had past, he still found it hard sometimes to cope with his loss. She laughed at his state of surprise. "You've been out for a grand total of four days. I see you're a very heavy sleeper." She stated with a smile.

Hicks rubbed his eyes, sighing. "Where am I?" He asked.

"You _were_ in the middle of the Western Altepa Desert, unconscious, and dehydrated. Now, you're in a cavern near that very place. By the way, you're welcome for the rescue." She explained, standing up.

"I didn't ask for you to rescue me." He replied, coldly.

"Wow, and so grateful, too!" She retorted, laughing. "I know you didn't ask. Considering your state of unconsciousness, it would have been rather hard for you to have asked in the first place."

"I'm leaving." Hicks muttered, hopping out of bed and making his way to the door. He immediately after found himself being lifted off of the ground by the collar of his under armor. His face immediately became red with anger. "I demand that you release me, wench!"

"Hold up, stubby." She stated, her voice a bit more firm than before. "In your condition, you're not going _anywhere_ unless I say so. You're weak, unarmed, and you've yet to become fully hydrated." Although Hicks was angry, he remained silent, for he knew that she had a point. "Who do you think you are, an Iron Musketeer or something?"

He found no humor in the irony.

He found himself being lowered to the ground, and eventually, his feet found support. He turned around and gave her an emotionless look while he observed her features. She was a young woman that seemed to be in her early twenties. Her hair was black, cut at the shoulders, and her Asian features gave her a rare beauty that the Lieutenant had not viewed in some time. However impressed he was with her beauty, he let no such sign be shown upon his face. She smiled, bent down, and extended her hand. "I'm Phacia. I'm a traveling bard, and this is one of the wagons of the convoy I'm currently hitching a ride on. And who might you be?"

Hicks hesitated to shake her hand, but he eventually brought himself to do so as he stared into her dark eyes. "My name is Hicks." He stated. "…and my business here is none of yours."

"Ah, I see." She replied, smiling. "Very well then, Hicks. It's nice to meet you."

The taru turned around, rolling his eyes out of the view of his rescuer. "…likewise…"

----

The next few days, Phacia saw very little of the impish man. He rarely came out of his cabin, and when he did, he came out at night, unbeknownst to him that, from afar, the bard watched him carefully. He never once, however, attempted to make an escape, and for that, Phacia had to give him credit.

Every day, around the time of noon, Phacia would play her lute for the convoy that was so generous to give her a ride. Her songs were normally fast paced and intense, and although Hicks enjoyed them from the comfort of his enclosed wagon, he showed no visible appreciation. Throughout the day, she would visit the taru, bringing with her a cup of water which she forced him to drink, regardless of his opinion of the matter.

This treatment repeated itself for many days. During this time, the two began to trust each other a bit more with each small conversation, though Hicks's emotional 'wall' made him very hard to converse with sometimes. Phacia, however, decided not to dwell on this fact, and hopefully in time he would come to trust her more.

----

The midnight sky could be seen from the mouth of the cave by which Phacia stood. She sighed, her eyes full of much anxiety; she never showed this side of herself while in the presence of others. Those who she traveled with knew next to nothing about her, which is the way she liked it. Although a loner at heart, she felt drawn to this Hicks. He was cold, emotionless, and impersonal with everything around him. Some of these traits she obviously shared with him, and for that reason, she felt very close to him from the start. She could say, in a way, that she envied him.

Such contemplations were stopped immediately by a familiar sound that she had not heard in many years. It was the sound of her own lute, no doubt, but the melody by which was played by its strings brought such a strange curiosity to her mind that she could not ignore. She knew very well where she had heard it last, but-

She immediately began to advance towards the source, which was trailing from deeper inside the cave. The convoy deep in slumber, she hurried off deep inside the cavern, the familiar melodies echoing across the stone walls. Growing ever more curious the closer she came, her walk had turned into a run, and her curiosity a desire. She _wanted_ to see the source of this song; she _needed_ to see it.

And, as she wished, she found her source. It came in the form of an impish figure atop a stone pillar, his blue hair draping over his shoulders, rather than pulled back in a loose ponytail as it often was. His eyes were closed as he played the slow, sad tune, his tiny fingers picking the strings with such precision and grace that she had never heard it played so beautifully. Without warning, he came to an abrupt stop. His eyes opened, and without saying a word, he stared into the eyes of Phacia.

"…Hicks…" She muttered, staring up at him in wonder. "…I had no idea you played."

He remained silent for some time, and then replied. "It seems that we both have our…secrets, Phacia."

Her heart sank.

Suddenly, Hicks began an immensely intense tune, his fingers dancing across the strings at an incredibly fast pace. Phacia's eyes grew wide with surprise.

A black doppelganger of herself emerged from the cave floor, its eyes glowing red. Her focus on Hicks immediately shifted to that of her new nemesis. The dark figure immediately rushed towards her, attempting a hard punch to the face.

Phacia easily dodged the attack by leaning backwards. She then grabbed the phantasm by the arm, delivered pressure to the elbow, and instantly broke the arm, though the figure showed no signs of pain. It immediately leapt back, though Phacia was hot in pursuit. She counter attacked with a swift kick to the chest, and then another, and then another, until the ghost finally grabbed her leg and swung her round and round. It let her go at an incredible rate of speed, though the woman easily landed on her feet on the cave wall. Phacia jumped down to the floor, then rushed forward, meeting the phantasm halfway. They began a series of blocks, kicks, and punches, delivering successful blows to both opponents. The woman yelled out fiercely, knowing that her stamina was depleting swiftly. Without a second to lose, she made a hard kick for the ghost's right knee, snapping it like a twig. Falling to its knees, Phacia, out of instinct, snapped its neck with a quick twist of the arms, and it faded into smoke shortly after.

Realizing what she had done out of instinct alone, she stared up at Hicks. No one knew this about her - absolutely no one.

"You've done well, Phacia." Hicks stated, staring down at her without emotion. "…Now, let us talk of your past. There is much to be explained."

Phacia cleared her throat, heart throbbing in her chest at a very high rate. The only thing she could do was nod in agreement; the truth was out to this man, and there was nothing she could do to hide it from him any longer.


	2. Chapter II: Hardships and Beginnings

- II -

They sat across from one another, a campfire separating them, as they laid back and relaxed deep inside the tunnel of Korroloka. Hicks stared deeply into the monk's eyes as he played a slow tune on her lute, as if he were searching deep within her soul for something. She, on the other hand, stared with a very confused and somewhat disturbed expression upon her.

"…How did you know?" She asked, lying on her side with her head propped up by her hand.

Never ceasing his playing, he looked upon her. "Your gestures." He replied.

In return, she gave a confused look.

"Your gestures, Phacia." He repeated. "Everything that you do… simple tasks, such as the way you play your instrument with such vigor, or the way you carry yourself, all give away your true self."

"I see." She replied, silently contemplating her own movements.

"However, your precision in combat is far more … 'advanced' … than any mortal should ever be upon his or her own skills." He laid the lute to the side, reclining himself on a rock. "Tell me, child. Do you see the enemy's next move before it happens? Can you see it in your mind so instinctively that you react without thought?"

Phacia nodded silently. Why did she trust this man so much? What was it about him that drew her toward him so much?

"I see." He replied, obviously contemplating something deep within his own mind. "…This ability is, without a doubt, the result of a very concentrated amount of training under the influence of the Dark Arts."

The monk raised up, her face stricken with great surprise. "How do you-"

"Do not ask such foolish questions, child." He interrupted. "Search your own heart, your own feelings… View me as if you were observing my soul as you do my physical features… and there, you shall find your answer."

Phacia did as she was told. She closed her eyes, picturing the impish man before her, and suddenly, it all unraveled before her.

"You…" She began, her voice sturdy with calmness and concentration. "…You are a fellow user of the Dark Arts, but…" Her eyes opened. "…I have been in the presence of a Shadow Lord before… Why do you not carry the taint of darkness upon your soul, such as I?"

Hicks's eyes averted to the left. "…My abilities were stripped from my very soul. Over twenty years of training - gone in an instant." His eyes were filled with much pain. "Surely you have heard of the Dark Queen, Ephraim."

Phacia nodded. "Of course… She advanced through the ranks of the San d'Orian army and took control of the throne in less than two months."

"Correct." Hicks replied, a sudden anger engulfing his eyes. "A vile and hateful woman, driven by her own selfish and sinister desires. She, too, carries the taint of the Dark Arts, although, her power is much more immense than yours. Although I once rivaled her power, she has absorbed what great amount I possessed. Now…" He said, with a sigh. "…I am left with nothing. As you can see, there is only so much an individual with my stature can accomplish in the heat of battle. I am worthless in nearly every way."

For the longest, Phacia stared toward the Lieutenant, contemplating his deep and moving words. "…Is this why you ran away from your duty?"

"I am of no use whatsoever to my country. I am doing them a favor by relieving myself of my own duties." The pain in his eyes was quite evident, although Phacia acted as if she didn't notice it. "Enough of me." He stated, his attitude clicking back into its usual cold self. "Tell me - how did you come to possess your powers?"

Phacia cleared her throat. It had been so long since she had spoken of this last. "It began when I was very young - around the age of four, or five." She focused her vision forward into space as she viewed her past in her own mind as she spoke. "My family migrated to Jeuno when I was only an infant, and we settled ourselves in a small Jeunonian village very close to what is now Rolanberry Fields. I loved my parents very much, but… I was kidnapped at an early age. His name was Lu Keng - a powerful warrior from the Far East. He always dressed himself in tightly wrapped black garbs, and never displayed his face; he covered it with an oriental mask of a fanged demon." She could see the man in her mind as if he were directly in front of her. One did not forget the features of such a figure as Lu Keng so easily. "I was devastated by my loss, but I was quickly weaned, just as all the children that he kidnapped were."

"How many students did he take on?" Hicks asked, deeply curious as to the tale that she told.

"There were many candidates - approximately fifteen - but only one student." She replied grimly. "He trained us to be ruthless, merciless killing machines. We were trained to carry out his will, no matter what the cost. We very quickly lost any mortal emotion whatsoever, and therefore, killing was nothing more than a task by which we carried out nearly each and every day. If he pointed, we killed. If he told us to take our own lives, we slit our necks. We were trained to have the utmost respect for him. To us, he was a god."

"Yes." Hicks replied. "My master was a similar case. I suppose all masters of the Dark Arts follow this example."

Phacia nodded. "However, there came a time when he chose to narrow down his pupils to one single apprentice. One single being to be chosen as his successor." She gulped, shaking her head. "He made us tear ourselves apart, the very people that we had stood beside for nearly ten years. However, it was his will, and without hesitation, we killed each other like a pack of rabid dogs. I was the only one left standing. From that moment on, he took me in far more personally than any of his candidates; he treated me as more of a daughter than a student." She looked down towards Hicks, once again making eye contact. "However, I soon came to find that the Dark Arts were sworn to absolute secrecy. This was a code that was absolutely forbidden to be broken, and any violators would immediately be liberated by any and all Shadow Lords that were fortunate enough to sense the concentration of the violator's power. You see, the intention of the Dark Arts is to hide in silence for as long as possible while their numbers grow. Once their numbers become large enough, they will stage a worldwide uprising, and will govern Vana'diel on their own terms."

Hicks nodded. "I came to understand that there were only three Shadow Lords of my master's time. He mentioned your master, actually. The other, in fact, was Ephraim's. I believe she slaughtered him at the near closing of her training, therefore explaining her outburst. The Dark Arts, however strong they may be, feed on your soul, more and more so as you use it. Overuse of the Dark Arts normally results in insanity. Hence, her recent actions." Hicks sighed. "She must be stopped, at all costs."

"I abandoned my power long ago. Although merciless, I soon began to find guilt in my actions. I began to see the fear and horror in my victim's eyes, and when that happened, my conscience began to get the best of me." She explained with a sigh. "I ran from him, as far as I possibly could. It has been nearly six years since I have been in his dark presence, and never once do I regret my resignation from his service."

"Phacia, you must know that you pose a very high influence upon this war." The two soldier's eyes met as they locked into each other's gaze. "Your actions will hinder the outcome, one way or another."

She sighed. "I could never return to the life I have lived. It is far too painful for me to relive. Surely, you of all people, could understand this."

"That is a decision that you must make, Phacia. You must decide whether it is important enough or not to either hide in the shadows because of your own fears, or rise to the challenge and bring an end to this, although foolish, but devastating and humanity-threatening war." Hicks's eyes never left contact with the monk's.

"No, I…" She stuttered. "I am far too weak. My training was hardly close to being completed when I decided to flee. I could never stand to Ephraim; she is far too powerful for one with a stature as low as mine." She raised herself up, standing to her feet, and turned her back to Hicks. "I just… can't."

"No; that is untrue, Phacia. You could be trained… I could complete the training that your superior began, and together, we could defeat her. You are the sole surviving carrier of the Dark Arts that can make a positive difference in this war. Do you understand that?"

Phacia remained silent.

"There is no other individual upon this planet, aside from Ephraim, that possesses the power that you do. It can be nurtured and can, with time, grow to its full potential." Suddenly, his voice became harsh and demanding. "You must do this, Phacia. You know as well as I that it is your destiny to use these talents that have been so graciously handed to you by the hand of fate. Search yourself; surely you too can see this."

Phacia turned around, facing Hicks once again. "How could you possibly think so much of someone that you barely know?"

"Because, I see so much of myself within you. In my younger years, I faced many of the same challenges as you did, and this may be my last chance to find redemption for the sins that I can never repay in full." He cleared his throat, his eyes narrow with concentration. "I believe in you because I see the potential within your heart. I believe in you because I see the mold of a young woman that can be changed into a miraculous warrior destined to change this world for the better, given that she begins to believe in her own potential." Phacia turned to face him.

Could this be her destiny?

Was this what she was born to accomplish?

"Take my hand, Phacia." He demanded, raising out his small arm towards her. "Together, we will bring an end to this war. We will lead Vana'diel to peace."

She opened her mouth, but she found it difficult to speak. "I…" He heart raced; could this be it? Would this decision change her life? "I…"

_"…I will…"_

_And, with those two words…_

_It began…_

_----_

Silver Tear stared towards the red horizon atop the balcony of his personal corridors within the Bastokan Metalworks. His eyes deep with sorrow and distress, he sighed.

"Silver…" The voice of Rini whispered from behind him. He turned to see her leaning up against the doorway of the balcony. She wore a white evening gown with golden trim, sewn from the finest eastern silk, draped gracefully over her small figure. "Speak to me. What is on your mind?"

He shook his head, looking to the right of himself, avoiding eye contact. "…Many things, Rini. The war, my possession of this damned pearl, the Lieutenant's disappearance…" he turned towards her, making eye contact. "…you…"

Her eyes grew wide with surprise. "Silver…" She stated as she walked towards him, her bare feet padding upon the stone balcony floor. "…The war has postponed the activity between you and I, and I truly apologize for overlooking your feelings in the way that I have…" She began to caress the side of his face, looking up towards him. "…but, at the time, there were far more pressing matters at hand. I didn't have time to think of whether or not I even shared these feelings…"

Silver never made contact with her eyes. He simply closed them, basking in the warmth of her touch. How he longed for this feeling - this desire.

"…Silver…"

He opened his eyes, and stared down into her face.

"…Kiss me."

In an instant, they both found themselves locked in a passionate kiss. It continued until Rini broke away to retrieve her breath. "I… I was afraid I would lose you…" She whispered to herself. "And…I still am…"

The thief held her close to himself, resting her chin upon her shoulder. "You'll never lose me, Rini… I'll never allow myself to leave you…never…"

She leaned her head backwards, allowing him to kiss her tender neck. "I didn't realise…how much that I truly missed you until you left for Windurst… I swore to myself that if I never saw you again, then I would have missed so much…" She whispered, grasping onto his firm shoulders. "…Never in my life have I been certain of such feelings as I am with you… When I'm with you, when you're by my side…"

"…the world fades away." Silver finished.

As they locked themselves in another passionate embrace, Silver lifted the Red Mage off of her feet, and carried her into his quarters.

----

Along the dirty and somewhat destroyed streets of Bastok, an elvaan paladin, equipped with white armor that could easily be spotted from afar, strode. His hair was blonde, medium length, well-kept and pampered. He wore it down, over his shoulders and parted slightly to the right. The people of Bastok looked upon him with obvious hate, for every time he walked past them, they would either turn their heads, or mutter obscene phrases under their breaths. It was stressful, no doubt, but his Elvaan pride refused to allow him to be upset by these matters. He had been forced to live this way for nearly a year now, but still, the fact that the people here truly hated him never seemed to grow old within his mind.

Deciding to try and make the best of things, he walked toward a fruit stand with a gentle and noble smile. "Greetings, citizen." He began, offering a polite bow. "I desire to buy a piece of-"

"We don't serve your kind, Elvaan scum!" The merchant hissed in reply. "Go to your own damn country, where your 'uppity' behavior is tolerated!"

"Well, I never." He huffed in reply. "Honesty, sir. What wrong have I done towards you or your kind?" His voice was both hurt and firm. "Every day, I walk these streets, and every day, I receive the same cruel looks. In any of these days have I caused you harm? Please, sir - inform me of my wrongdoings, so that I may correct them!" The Elvaan turned around, looking towards the crowd that began to form around him. The merchant then noticed the rather large Bastokan insignia sewn into the red cape that was draped over the Paladin's armor. "I speak to each and every one of you, as well, citizens! I beg of you - inform me of my treacheries!"

He began to look around, turning in circles as he viewed the many faces, full of hate and disdain, that surrounded him.

"…Have you all nothing to say? Have you nothing against me?" He asked, his voice raised and troubled. The crowd, once again, remained silent. "If that be true, then why do you all hate me so? I serve your country with the utmost pride for both the country I serve and the morals that country stands for, yet you despise me for my height, or the shape of my ears?"

"I happen to _like_ the shape of those ears!" Yelled a most familiar voice from amongst the crowd. He immediately looked around for the source of the voice, and sure enough, the source was soon found.

A mithra began to shove her way through the crowd, pushing people left and right, yelling blasphemies with each person that dared be in her path. Finally, she broke away from the circle, and made her way over to the Paladin in the middle of the circle. She wore a blue and black robe, finely decorated with golden tassels and lace. On her head was an overly large brown scarecrow hat, torn in the middle of the point so that it stylishly fell backwards. "Well, well, well… if it isn't Dakan!" She said with a smile. She then turned around to face the crowd. "…and YOU suns'a bitches should be _ashamed_ of yourselves!"

The crowd was appalled.

"Honestly!" She yelled. "Did you know that this man nearly gave his life trying to protect the freedom that keeps you good-for-nothings alive each and every day!" They grew eerily silent. "And all you can do to thank him is whisper about him behind his back, calling him 'Elvaan scum', and making fun of the way his ears look? Which I adore, by the way…" She said, muttering the last line to herself. "You are all pathetic! Now, break it up before I'm forced to take physical actions for your treacheries!" She said with a maniacal laugh, allowing fire to consume her right hand as she held it before her.

Needless to say, the crowd dispersed quite swiftly.

"Emira." Dakan said, with a smile.

The mithra turned around with a toothy smile. "…The one and only!"

----

Early the next morning, Silver awoke with a sleeping Rini by his side. He smiled at her innocent and peaceful smile, and he slowly caressed the outline of her lips. Careful not to disturb her, he crept out of the bed and dressed himself in his old thief attire: a green and brown vest, metal choker, green, baggy shorts with many pouches on the belt, and light slippers - all of which he hadn't worn in many years, yet, fit just as comfortably as the last time he had worn them. He then draped a thick brown cloak over himself and walked out to the balcony.

"Rini…" he whispered. "Forgive me for leaving so suddenly, but I know that you would never condone such an absence." He stated, climbing on top of the railing of the balcony. "There's no way we stand a chance against Ephraim and her growing army without the Lieutenant. I _must_ find him." He explained, sighing. "…and when I do…"

"…I'll return…"

With that being said, he leapt off of the balcony, grappling himself with a hook to the ground below, where he would then silently leave the nation of Bastok in search of the one that would lead them to victory.

"…Hicks…"

"…So help me, Altana…"

"…I'll find you…"


End file.
